C
I been waiting on a cold front
G7
To trample this sun
I been calling my mama
C
On the telephone
I been cooking lots of chicken
F
On the kitchen stove
C G7 C
And pulling the meat right off the bone
I been sending that letter
Of sorrow home
I been hurting deep
And not sleeping long
I been eating lots o chicken
And getting mighty stoned
And pulling the meat right off the bone
F
And I ask myself
C
How did it get this way?
But when I ask myself
G7
I ainít got much to say
C
Iím just cooking the chicken
F
And eating crow
C G7 C
And pulling the meat right off the bone
We have no preacher
To marry our son
Our daughters have no faith
In a christian home
How shall we live now
Now that God is gone
Just pulliní the meat right off the bone